


Far Too Soon

by raxzity



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Brothers, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Like So Many Hugs, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Recreational Drug Use, Reunions, Sheep Hybrid Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot-centric, and implied ram hybrid tubbo, but neither are that important, grrrr why no md character tags, im pissed, implied childhood friends wilbur and schlatt, the gang is just vibing in the afterlife, tommy's fucking dead boyssss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29794119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raxzity/pseuds/raxzity
Summary: “See you soon, Wilbur.”“See you soon.”Those were the last words Wilbur exchanged with his little brother before he went back to the afterlife.They came true far too soon.
Relationships: Jschlatt & Mexican Dream, Jschlatt & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Mexican Dream, Wilbur Soot & Jschlatt & Mexican Dream, Wilbur Soot & Jschlatt & Mexican Dream & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Mexican Dream, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 1
Kudos: 262





	Far Too Soon

“See you soon, Wilbur.”  
“See you soon.”

Those were the last words Wilbur exchanged with his little brother before he faded away, back to the afterlife that served as both his prison and his paradise. He walked over and sat down next to a pair of men, the only company he had in this place. They were smoking, a table with various bags and bottles and needles a few feet away. Silently, the man next to him tossed him the pack of cigarettes. He lit one, breathing in and exhaling the smoke with a deep sigh.

-

Months later, the three men sat in that exact same spot. They were passing around a bottle, taking sips of a drink that had long since stopped burning their tongues. 

Suddenly, Wilbur felt something brush against his leg. He looked down and spotted a cat, with matted grey and white fur. It seemed frazzled and bitter; which were strange emotions for a cat. But they were there nonetheless.

“That’s... weird.” He mumbled, leaning down to pet it. It stiffened but eventually leaned into his hand, seemingly happy at the positive attention.

“What?” The man sitting to his right asked, looking over. “Huh.” He finished, a simple exclamation of surprise and agreement.

At this, the other man turned towards them and started paying attention. Upon seeing the cat, he let out a hum. “We don’t usually get pets here.” he stated, before adding, “That is weird, man.” and going back to whatever he was doing.

Wilbur looked back down at the cat, scratching it behind the ears softly. It tilted its head and looked up at him.

He had a bad feeling. It’s been there, manifesting as a pit in his gut, for the last week. But it’s gotten significantly worse now that this cat showed up. His roommate of sorts was right. They don’t usually get animals like that in the afterlife. There were plenty of dead pets he could think of. Henry, Spirit, Fungi... Even Friend, who Ghostbur had told him about, wasn’t here. 

But this cat was. Why? He had a feeling it was connected to whatever was causing this awful ache in his stomach.

He was handed the bottle. He muttered a quiet, polite refusal and passed it back.

-

A few hours later, the three of them were still sitting there. They rarely moved from that spot. They had nothing else to do.

The other two had noticed Wilbur’s nerves (It would be hard not to, with how well they know each other at this point. Not to mention how he was bouncing his leg.) and stopped drinking, now just sitting there in a comfortable silence as usual. 

The feeling was only getting worse. He felt like he was going to be sick. It was way too much. He hadn’t felt anything strongly in a long time, and now he was feeling everything strongly. He knew something bad was happening and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He dug his nails into his legs and his breathing quickened until it turned into hyperventilation. 

The man on his right put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly. “Breathe, Will.” He reminded softly, a reassuring tone in his voice that he hadn’t heard from him in years.

“Thanks, Schlatt.” He responded with a sigh. He let himself relax slightly. He didn’t really feel any better, but there was no point in freaking out. It’s not like he could do anything.

The cat got up from where it was laying in the third man’s lap and sat at his feet. It rubbed its head against him, either looking for affection or expressing its own affection just like that. It reminded him of what Tubbo used to do, back when they were still close. (And even earlier, when they were still close, what Schlatt used to do.)

He allowed his mind to go blank for a while.

-

Wilbur was broken from his trance when he heard a voice behind him. A voice he hadn’t heard in what felt like forever. It was loud, or at least it was supposed to be loud. In reality, it was far too quiet.

“Wilbur?”

With a jolt he spun around, and there stood his little brother; covered in horrible, ghostly injuries and stained with blood. He was sporting his classic white and red t-shirt. It was without the accessories he had taken to wearing with it in the last few years; instead just appearing as it was when they were younger, before there were any wars, untainted by the horrors of life. His hair was longer than he remembered. 

“Tommy?” He heard himself say, but he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything. Why is Tommy here? His spot in the afterlife has been closed for months. It was supposed to be closed. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be alive.

He stood up suddenly, startling the cat at his feet. He ran towards his brother, stopping just before he crashed into him and wrapping him a hug. A hug tighter than any the two had ever shared before. Tighter than when they were both little and Tommy had woken up from a bad dream, and Wilbur sang to him until he fell back to sleep. Tighter than when they died together in the Final Control Room, managing to crawl to each other in their final moments. Tighter than when Tommy died alone to an arrow in the head that he had let him sign himself up for, while Wilbur held him in his arms as he bled out. Tighter than when they won the War, cheering as they slammed into each other and embraced in celebration. Tighter than when they lost the Election, huddling for warmth that first night in the cold ravine that was to be their new home. Tighter than when they were in Pogtopia, where his hugs were purposely tight and constricting. Tighter than when Tommy was the one hugging him, pinning his arms to his sides, while Quackity stood guard in front of the button on the wall in case he broke free and tried to press it again.

Tommy hugged back just as hard. He buried his face into the crook of his brother’s neck, who then did the same in his. They stood like that for a while, unmoving. Wilbur felt himself start to cry, something he hadn’t done since he was alive. Judging by the wet feeling soaking through his sweater, he wasn’t the only one tearful. 

Eventually, he pulled away. He softly grabbed his brother’s face and tilted it upward until he was looking at him, before moving to wipe his tears. 

“Oh, my dear baby brother. What did they do to you?” He lamented. Tommy started crying harder.

Off to the side, two men sat watching in silence; not wanting to interrupt the moment. One of the men then stood up and walked over to the pair of brothers, waiting patiently until he was noticed.

“Mexican Dream?” Tommy managed through his sobs. The aforementioned man just opened his arms and let the boy collapse into them.

“You were taken too soon, Tomas. I didn’t want to meet you again like this.” He remarked wistfully, petting the long blond hair of the child leaning into him.

The remaining man reluctantly got up and walked over to the rest of the group. He stood awkwardly next to Wilbur before Tommy noticed his presence.

Wilbur was expecting him to start screaming, or arguing, or panicking, or something along those lines. What he wasn’t expecting was Tommy to immediately envelop the man in a hug, muttering a soft “I missed you...” into his chest. (Everyone knew that he wasn’t referring to his death. He was referring to something long before that.)

By the look of it, Schlatt wasn’t expecting it either. Judging by how he froze like a deer caught in the headlights before tearing up and hugging back. He pat the kid’s back somewhat stiffly before giving up and softly headbutting him. This seemed to awaken something in Tommy because he only gripped the man harder. 

Wilbur stood and watched this scene play out with a sad smile. He missed his brother. He missed his family. But he didn’t want to see them again if it had to happen like this. Never like this. Tommy deserved to be alive. He didn’t deserve to be sent here yet. He was still so young. When he said, “See you soon.” this isn’t what he meant. He hopes it isn’t what Tommy meant, either. 

However, this is what they’re stuck with. They were dealt these cards and now they have to play with them. So he might as well find what enjoyment he can out of it.

But God help whoever did this to his baby brother. Because after he’s done with them, they’ll never fucking touch his family again.


End file.
